The Legend
by letsimagine42
Summary: A long lost legend still hangs in the air of Brooklyn as it enters the 21st century. And this legend lives on in Stephanie, a girl so like this legend that others that were legends flock to her. Lost, she seeks help, and someone she never expected shows.
1. Chapter 1

The Reincarnations

Disclaimer: I am not Disney, so I do not own _Newsies_. Everything you don't recognize from the movie is mine.

A/N: Thanks for coming in, guys! I love the movie Newsies and everyone in it, blah, blah, blah. So, this is my first Newsies fic and I hope you enjoy it.

Genre: Newsies Alternate Universe

Chapter Title: Welcome Back to High School

Warnings: Some language.

Enjoy!

7:30 AM

The phone was ringing. The phone was ringing and it was seven thirty in the morning! Why was the phone ringing?

I groaned and punched my pillow. It was the first day of sophomore year at Jefferson High School for the Exceptionally Gifted. I scowled openly and yanked the phone off its cradle.

"_What?_"

"Morning, Stephie! Let's get up, kid. You've got fifteen minutes." It was my best friend, Jacqueline, or Jackie, who should _know_ not to wake me up at seven thirty in the morning.

"Fifteen minutes?" I said my voice hoarse. "For what?"

"The bus, stupid," she replied smoothly. "The bus for high school leaves in fifteen minutes."

What? The bus? Oh. Yeah. The bus for high school changed its time over the summer. No wonder Jackie was calling me at this time. She wanted to make sure I didn't show up at school looking like a complete idiot. Of course, no one would say anything, because I was the leader of the entire goddamn school.

I pushed the comforter back and muttered into the phone, "I'll be there in fourteen minutes." I hung up on her then, and then grabbed the clothes I'd grabbed last night in my one o'clock in the morning daze and ran to the bathroom. I nearly tripped over my cat, who, for some unfathomable reason was stretched across the doorway and basking in the absent sunshine.

I hit my head on the doorframe to the bathroom _again_ and slammed the door shut.

Okay. I was ready. I snatched a burnt piece of toast from the stack on the table, grabbed my shoes, my backpack and a ponytail band and went out the door.

The sidewalk was hard but muffled by the socks on my feet as I walked down to the bus stop. I didn't wear shoes unless I absolutely had to – it was a little quirk of mine. I liked burnt toast, too. Jackie thought it was from my dad's side.

"Ah, so Sleeping Beauty rises, hmm?" Jackie gave me a bright smile as I sat down on somebody's lawn to put my shoes on.

"If you weren't my friend I would personally beat the crap out of you for being a morning person," I said. I yanked the old Converses on and thought for a minute. "Since when do you go to Jefferson High for the Exceptionally Gifted? Don't you live in Manhattan?"

"I do. But Mom wanted me to transfer because ol' Leeman doesn't give a crap about scholars like me." Jackie grinned again. "So I transferred and being the exceptionally gifted person that I am, I will be the newest sophomore."

I yawned tiredly and Jackie helped me up. We waited together for the bus, and I looked at her when I realized that it was ten minutes after eight. "I thought the bus was coming at eight," I said, looking at her suspiciously.

"I decided that a personal wake-up call and a little bit of hysteria would get you up pretty good," she said coolly, smirking at my anger.

"You _know_ not to wake me up!" I nearly shouted, wanting to tackle her. "Just because you're a morning person-"

A yellow dinosaur rumbled up beside us and my torrent ended. By yellow dinosaur, by the way, I mean the school bus. It was rickety and as old as some of the brownstones 'round these parts, and the school didn't have a lot of money to rent newer ones.

We got on and I saw a lot of my friends around. They weren't exactly my friends, but they weren't exactly my court, either. It was more in-between. I didn't have a right hand guy, or even a left one. I was standing alone at the throne, and there wasn't anything anybody could do about it.

"'Morning, Stephanie." That was Leila. She was one of the closer friends I had. She never called me Stephie liked Jackie did, though. She was bit too proper, and it gave me a headache just to listen to her perfect grammar. "Are you ready for sophomore year?"

I shrugged. "It's just another adventure, Lei," I said. She hated her nickname, and she made a face when I called her that.

Grinning slightly, Jackie and I made our way to the back of the bus. There were only freshmen and sophomores on this bus – the juniors and seniors either rode their own bus or drove. We sat down, me never looking down or paying any attention to what Jackie was doing. I liked observing what was going on in my court, what was wrong, what was happening. I liked being in control of things.

The bus started up and we roared clumsily down the street. Some freshman dude thought it was funny to whack another freshman, only a girl, upside the head.

"If you think it's funny to hit someone," I said angrily, standing up against the driver's rules, "wait till you're laughing on the ground after I take out some of your teeth."

That guy shut up real good and sank down, blushing. He knew I meant business, and my business didn't follow the rules.

"Hey! Siddown, will ya? I ain't gettin' in trouble just 'cause some brat wants ta boss 'round the freshmen." The bus driver frowned at me and jerked his thumb towards a seat.

I scowled and plunked back down next to Jackie. She poked me and I glared at her. God. I can't believe these people are being stupid under _my_ watch and in the goddamn morning. You just don't do that.

We rumbled down Flatbush Avenue and into some of the side streets, where the prestigious high school was and the campus practically took up five blocks.

I had no idea how my parents could get me into a high school with a five-block campus, but being that my dad is the chief of the local firehouse, I guess that does factor into the equation.

And speaking of equations, I never finished my math packet they gave us last year. I'd barely made it to sophomore year, being that I sucked at math but I manned the cash register at Gramps' pizzeria, and I couldn't risk not finishing it.

But hey. Risks are my middle name. I don't take them just because I'm stupid. I take them because that's who I am.

We rolled to a stop light and I could already see it – Jefferson High School for the Exceptionally Gifted. My prison, my jail cell. I hated it there. But since Jackie was there, maybe it'd be a bit better. Besides, I ruled the hallways, the bathrooms, the locker rooms…Heck. I ruled just about everything.

"Have a great first day, kiddies," hissed the bus driver when we arrived and we were all filing off. He stopped me and said, "Don't you dare give me anymore trouble. I know who you are."

"Yeah," I said with a smirk. "I'm Brooklyn." Laughing, I jumped the last three steps and landed neatly. Looking over my kingdom, I swaggered in and prepared for the first day of high school.

"Well, a new student," I said, surveying the ginger-haired, freckly faced girl that looked as confused as Jackie was. "Wonder who she is and why she hasn't figured out yet that her locker is down there." I jerked my thumb to the rest of the hallway behind me.

Jackie shrugged. "Could be anyone," she said optimistically. Morning person.

I walked up to her and leaned against the lockers. "I'm Stephanie Conlon. Now before you say anything, your locker is down there" I jerked my chin down in that direction "and now that you know where it is, please, tell us your name."

"I'm Diana Jacobs," she said. "I know where my locker is, thanks. I was just looking for the biology classroom."

"Downstairs," Jackie said, coming up behind me. "Mrs. Palatino wouldn't like it if you're late." She grinned a little. "Even if it's just the first day."

Another one with proper grammar. Hello! We're in New York, here! You have to talk with an accent. It's legendary.

"Oh, thanks," she said. "What classes are you guys in?"

I grit my teeth together. "Well, I'm taking remedial math, because I suck at it," I said sourly. "But otherwise, we should be in the same classes if you're a sophomore."

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm a sophomore." She smiled. "I'm taking three AP classes."

I grimaced. "That's good, y'know?" She was trying my patience. Like Leila, this Diana kid was extremely perky and like they were _trying_ to make you like them. It made me mad. "I could never get into AP classes."

She shrugged. "Oh, that's fine. Maybe next year. I'll see you guys at lunch!" And with a small, perky little flick of her hair, she skipped down the hallway to the stairwell.

I slammed my fists against the lockers when she vanished. "She. Is. So. Damn. Perky."

Jackie laid a hand on my shoulder, a dangerous maneuver. "Hey, you put up with Leila."

"But Leila still keeps her mouth _shut_." I turned and started walking down the hall. "What is this girl? A walking mouth?"

"Look who it is, girls! It's Brooklyn!" Laughter.

I turned around and saw Maria, Kayla, and Rachel all laughing together. "Don't you start being perky, too," I growled, coming up to them.

Rachel laughed. "I'd bet you three dollars that you actually like perky people."

"You're too cheap, Rachel," said Maria. "Take her for all she's got."

"Yeah, and empty my pockets of all the money I took from the jar today," I said. The jar was where I've kept my money since I was little. They knew what it was.

The bell rang shrilly.

"I'll see you guys at lunch," I called over my shoulder as hordes of students split the group apart. "I have to go to biology with the Walking Mouth."

2:45 PM

"Hey, Joe," I said to my coworker as I came into the pizzeria. "The lunch rush is kinda slow today, huh?" I surveyed the empty pizzeria.

"Yeah, kid. People are too busy thinking about their work instead of lunch time!" The chef grinned and tossed me my apron over the counter.

"They're just too concerned with being thin," I commented. I slipped into the apron and slipped behind the counter. "So, who's on delivery duty today?"

"Angelo," he called from the kitchen. "Your grandfather's taking the day off."

I checked the delivery list and realized that Angelo was making three in one hour. "I hope he doesn't think it's a race," I muttered. "Last time he was on delivery duty, he got five speeding tickets!"

"He's young," said the Italian. "Still dumb in the head."

"Are you talking about me?" Angelo came into the room with his cap a bit lopsided and a stupid expression on his face. "'Cause if you are, I just might have to put Moss on delivery duty."

I winced. "Moss on delivery duty?" I punched him on the arm. "In your dreams."

He laughed and went into the kitchen to help Joe. Soon they were chattering away in Italian, leaving me out of the conversation.

I turned to the counter and leaned against the refrigerator. This pizzeria has been in Dad's family since he was a little kid, when he helped out. Gramps has owned this place since Dad was six, and when Dad was eleven, he started working here. I started when I was twelve, because my dad wanted me to stop getting into so much trouble at school.

Two customers walked in and I stopped my slouching and stood at the counter.

The first lady squinted at the menu over my head and said, "Two of the Brooklyn specialties with extra sausage." She paused. "Do you have coffee?"

I shook my head. "No, ma'am, we stopped serving coffee a way back."

She frowned. "All right, then. Two colas."

I relayed the message back to Joe, and he started muttering under his breath. He was probably cursing in Italian, but I'd never know. Brooklyn specialties were, well, our specialty, and it was famous around the borough. It was also famous in the kitchen, because it took so long to make.

"Ladies? I'm really sorry, but the pizza is gonna take a little while," I said to the women.

"How long?" said the first one. She looked really stuffy, like she only expected the best.

"About forty-five minutes."

She glanced at the second lady. "Can we stay that long, Dolores?"

"I guess so."

She nodded at me. "We'll stay."

I went into the kitchen. "No luck this time, Joe. They want that pizza."

He shrugged. "What people what is what people want." He acted like an Italian philosopher. No wonder Dad liked him so much.

I leaned against the refrigerator again, waiting for some more customers or a call on the phone. There was a long shift in front of me, and if I wanted to get paid, I had to tough it out.

And then, of course, when I just _started_ being just a bit _optimistic_, Alyssa Giovanni, the only person who dared challenge my authority, walked in with her cronies.

And she looked like she meant business.


	2. A Challenge to The Throne, The Key

Disclaimer: I will tell you again: I do not own Newsies.

A/N: W00t! I got reviews! Thanks to Flick.TheLighter for being the first reviewer and commenting on my spell check! Also, I would like to thank Dramaqueen1993 for her review, as well! You two get a cookie!

Genre: Newsies Alternate Universe

Chapter Title: Alyssa Giovanni, Dinner at Nan's

Warnings: Some language.

Enjoy!

3:02 PM

…_Alyssa Giovanni, the only person who _dared_ challenge my authority, walked in with her cronies. And she looked like she meant business._

"Look, girls, it's the leader of Jefferson High." A sneer even worthy of my countenance plastered itself on her face. "And she isn't wearing a crown – she's wearing an apron." The sneer was replaced with a false, happy little Queen-competitor laugh.

I smirked a little. Hey, it's not good with all that anger. I kinda let it flow out and just taunt my enemies. I've learned that a long time ago. "Well, Alyssa, I see you've moved up higher in the world. Got two little girls to back you up. Not much of any army, is it?"

She laughed her fake little laugh again. "Oh, you're mistaken, Conlon. I've got my own little army forming back at the school. Some of the jocks are getting tired of your dictatorship," she said, putting her hands on hips like that would scare me, "and I plan to give them a democracy."

"Democracy my ass," I replied sharply. "You'd give them a tyranny."

Alyssa bristled just a little. "But I am. There are kids who are tired of you ruling the school, Conlon. They want you out."

"And have you as the leader of the free school? Hell no," I said. I turned away from her to go into the kitchen, talk with Joe a little in what Italian I knew.

"Walking away from a fight, Conlon?"

I whirled around and glared at her. Yes, I'm short, but it's goddamn genetics. Nan is short, her brother's short, and my dad's a bit taller than short, but he's still small. I saw she was still in that position, with her hands on her hips and jutting out to the left. She was pouting, too.

"I can call you a coward, now," she sneered, looking pleased with herself.

"Yeah, I can call you a girl who throws up her food to stay thin," I shot back. "Betcha that Ryan had no idea, huh?"

She looked taken aback and she folded her arms. I swore I could see two red devil's horns growing out of her hair. She rolled her eyes, looking exasperated. "Everyone knows that I'm naturally thin," she said.

"The only one in here who's actually thin is me," I said. "That's what's good about genetics."

It's true. My entire family is short and slim. We eat like horses and some of us don't even exercise, but we stay as thin as a fence post. My aunt on my mom's side, who for some reason thinks I should fatten up a little, keeps trying to shove food down my throat whenever I go to her house.

She scowled. "I'll get you back, Conlon. This'll be the last week you're ever gonna sit on the throne."

"Only in your dreams, Giovanni, and when I'm in your dreams, it's a nightmare." I smirked and folded my arms, daring her to keep going. I won't walk away from a fight unless someone held me back, and that was extremely annoying. For some strange reason I sometimes feel the hands of someone holding me back when I get really, really pissed off. I push and pull against them, but no, they don't let go. I didn't know what it was.

Alyssa narrowed her eyes and did that stupid little pout-thing again, and she snapped her fingers twice and walked out. Her cronies followed her like two brain-dead puppies.

"My Stephie is growing up," commented Joe, though not unkindly.

I turned towards him and sighed. "Only when people start getting annoying," I said, watching the doorway as if I expected Alyssa to walk in again. I smiled a little. "Need any pizzas made?"

He gestured to the dough and ingredients, "Hey, go ahead. I'll send the word to boss." He winked at me and trailed back into the kitchen.

I made the pizza, twirling the dough over my head and tossing it around. It was just a show we put on sometimes. People outside see us working with the dough and walk in, suddenly hungry. It's kind of funny sometimes. Moss taught me how to do it when we had a rainy day of business, and nobody was coming in.

I set it down and started spreading the sauce around, then the cheese, and another layer of sauce. It was how we did it in the Conlon family – two layers of cheese and sauce. Everybody liked Nan's secret sauce recipe, too.

Joe whacked the back of my legs gently with a dishtowel when he went to go get those two ladies' pizza. Seeing my expression, he laughed outright and took the steaming pizza gently out of the over and split it onto two paper plates.

I was just about ready to slide the pizza into the over when my cell phone vibrated violently. I left it on the counter, and it was shaking over to the edge way to fast. I lunged for it, catching it just as it fell off, and the pizza made it into the oven by my momentum when I lunged for the phone.

It was a text from Mom:

_Dinner Nan's_

_Dress in something presentable_

_And _don't_ come barefoot!!_

Well, the whole thing with the bare feet was all about me and Nan. Nan said that she would accept a shirt, but shoes could be excused. So, half the time I walked over there barefoot. Mom would be shocked because the soles of my feet would be totally black and Nan would just laugh. I didn't know why I walked around barefoot sometimes – it was just a thing I did. Just like I ate burnt toast and didn't mind the taste – another thing I did. And the way I like taking risks. It's who I am, like it or not.

Oh, and if you're wondering, my mom is a great business woman and she's always trying to get the latest and greatest computerized buddy, so she knows how to text people. She also knows how to chat, how to access old files on the computer – I admit it. My mom is a techno-geek.

Knowing that Nan wanted us there at four on the dot, I looked for Joe and found him spying on the two ladies. "Joe," I said. "I have to hit the sack for tonight. I'll see you tomorrow."

He nodded. "Dinner at Nan's?" he asked.

I nodded. "I'll see you. There's a new pizza in the oven – don't let it burn."

"I won't." He grinned at me.

I took off my apron and hung it in the staff room. I grabbed my schoolbag and headed out, not looking over my shoulder.

If I could go to docks, I would. The docks were the place I was most comfortable. It was only me and the water. Well, me, the water, a few seagulls, and the sailors. But I was ignored. I sat on some broken crates and stared out onto the East River, listening to the lapping water against the pillars. Now, the cars kinda broke the silence, with horns rocketing off the walls half the time – but that was okay. There was also a little alcove that I could retreat into. It was small, but it was nice. There were a few broken in crates and a rickety little table. There was also a makeshift shelf with four or five unbroken cola bottles in a row. Next to the last bottle was a battered but well-taken care off slingshot. It stirred something inside, something that was long forgotten whenever I looked at it. But I didn't dare touch it.

I was so lost in my thoughts that some cab driver thought he could honk at me. I leaped back onto the sidewalk and glared at him as he rushed past. Shaking my head, I crossed the street and up the steps to Nan's brownstone.

I walked in and got the first whiff of spaghetti sauce. You've never tasted spaghetti or any other Italian food until you've tasted Nan's. Nan is the best cook ever, even if she's a little bit more Irish than she is Italian.

"Nice of you to actually show up," commented Mom as she came out from behind the table. She started fixing my hair. "Can't you at least brush it?"

I batted her hands away and walked over to Nan, who was wearing a silly _I'm The Cook, Kiss Me!_ apron and doing what she did best – made her famous food. I gave her a peck on the cheek, and she looked up with a smile on her face.

"Hello, Stephie! How's my girl?" She gently pinched my cheek, and I felt my face flush.

She chuckled good naturedly and turned back to the food. "Dinner'll be ready in a little while, girly," she said.

I flopped down on the old sofa and kicked off my high tops. "High school's a bore, Nan," I said. "People are so stupid. Don't they know who to look up to?"

Nan was the only one who knew about my leadership at Jefferson. She didn't tell my mother, because Mom would make it a big deal and tell me to relinquish my throne.

Yeah, like that'll happen.

About ten minutes later, dinner was served and on the table. I sat next to Nan and Dad was on my left side. Mom was across from Dad, and Gramps, who was absent at the moment, sat next to Mom. My brother, Matt, would usually be here, but he was at some basketball thing.

"How was the first day of school?"

Leave it to Mom to start up a conversation.

"Well" I swallowed "I met some new kid named Diana Jacobs-"

"Jacobs?" repeated Nan. She saw my bewildered face. "Oh, never mind."

"Well, she decides to get all up in my face, you know? And I'm just trying to help her out. She's like a Walking Mouth," I said. Nan shifted next to me.

"It's not nice to call people names, Stephanie." My mother looked at me over her coffee. "No matter how 'up in your face' she was."

I scowled and returned to my dinner, silenced for a while.

My dad had an uneventful day at the firehouse, mostly because the calls were taken down in the next zip code, and not so far north. He was a quiet man – he usually never talked unless he absolutely had to. Mom…that was another story.

Nan tapped me on the shoulder. "Have you found that little cove at the docks?" she asked.

"You mean the one with the slingshot and pop bottles?" My voice lowered considerably. I didn't want Mom to ask questions.

Nan nodded. "Yes, that one." She paused, looking me over and then smiling. "Oh, my dear, you look like him more and more every day."

"Who," I asked, looking at her. Who did I remind her of?

"After dinner, I'll tell you."

That left me quiet. I thought over it. Who did I remind Nan of? All she could ever talk about were her father and her grandfather. I had no idea who I reminded her of. I could be that person walking down the street that she met one day, or the person on a Cola ad.

We cleared away the plates and Nan and I washed them. I washed, she dried. I didn't say anything during that time unless Mom asked me a question. I kept wondering what Nan meant.

"Girly," Nan said when she put the last dish away, "come with me."

We went up the stairs and towards a drop-down attic. She pulled at the chain and the latch came down, along with dust bunnies. We coughed and started up the stairs.

Nan pulled the light cord and then looked around at the various boxes that were covered in dust. "Now where did I put Pop's trunk?" she whispered to herself, tapping her chin with her pointer finger. With sudden inspiration, she clambered over to a box shoved into a corner and she beckoned me over. Smiling like a giddy old lady (which, she was, actually), she opened the chest.

"Now, girly, this is my grandfather's trunk. He was my idol, that energetic old grasshopper, and you remind me just of him. I was thinking about it hard, and I wanted to show you this." She rummaged around in the trunk and pulled out a small velvet bag. She handed it to me. "Open it," she urged.

I clumsily opened the bag and reached in. My fingers clutched the cold chain of a necklace, and along with it came a silver key. It was perfect, not tarnished at all. I studied it hard, feeling something move sharply in my heart. I laid it in the palm of my hand, my brow puckered in thought. _I've seen this before. I know what this is. I just know!_ I looked back up at Nan.

"It's Pop's necklace." She got this faraway look in her eye. "He wore it every where. He never took it off, but some people say that he took it off. Some say that it was the key to his heart, and whoever his girl was, she would currently have the key around her neck. But when they broke it off," she shook her head, "he would get the necklace back."

"So…You gave this to me because…?" I felt lost, but I knew where I was going. Did you ever get that feeling?

Nan looked at me sharply. "This necklace was important to him. Even when he was older, he wore it around his neck. Before he died, he told me that I should give it to who I think was best, and that if I didn't he would haunt me for the rest of my life." She chuckled at this. "And I think that you're best. You resemble Pop in so many ways. The way you lead, the way you won't take anyone's crap. You know where you're headed."

"Do you mean that I'm a reincarnation or something?" I said.

Nan shushed me and looked at the attic door. Seeing that no one was there, she turned back to me and clasped her hands around mine and the necklace. "There is a strong possibility that that is the answer," she whispered. "Spot Conlon has chosen you to live on, and you can't turn back."

"Hell, I don't care," I said loudly, and Nan shushed me again.

"Do you know Jacqueline Kelly?" she whispered.

I nodded.

"She is Pop's best friend, Jack Kelly's reincarnation," she whispered. "And that Jacobs girl you mentioned at dinner – she is a reincarnation, too. The way you called her a Walking Mouth reminded me instantly of Pop. He said the same thing about that girl's great-great grandfather as well!"

I was a bit, well, shell-shocked. Reincarnations just weren't my department. "Do you mean that we're ghosts or something?"

Nan shook her head. "Not at all. You are the next ones. The ones that carry the same looks, the same personalities, the same memories. You find things where your past soul has been, the cove, for example. You said you remembered the bottles and the slingshot. Those were Spot's, and he knew that he had to leave them there for whoever was next."

I shuddered for a moment. "So you're saying that this Spot guy actually _knew_ that someone was going to carry on…."

Nan gripped my shoulders. "Say nothing of this to no one. Whoever wants to know about reincarnations will find you and your fellow reincarnations and take you in to study. You are a scientific and religious miracle. And, unfortunately, we must keep it quiet."

I had so many questions to ask, but Nan told me to put the necklace on and leave it under my shirt. I complied as easily as I ever would and did so without a word. Nan is the only one who actually knew how to stay my temper and to keep my sarcasm to a minimum.

We went back downstairs. For a half hour, we stayed down there and talked about random things. I kept touching the necklace, but whenever I did Nan would shoot me a warning glance. Mom also commented that I was being unusually quiet, but I didn't reply. I was lost.

3:42 AM

I heard something in my sleep. I was dreaming of things, of dancing peanut and butter sandwiches. Hey, I had no control over that. I shoved my head under the pillow and ignored it, but when I heard the light come on, I jerked my head up at once.

There was a man there. Actually, a male that was caught between childhood and manhood. He was smirking a very familiar smirk and his eyes reminded me of mine. He stood like I did, with his thumbs hitched in his belt loops and his head tilted slightly to the side. He wore red suspenders and a checked shirt, and a cabbie hat on his head.

"Oh, so _you're_ da one dats supposed ta be my "next self."


	3. A Visit from Brooklyn

Disclaimer: Of course not! Who do you think I am? Disney?

Shout Outs: W00t! People care! Well, this grateful author would like to thank:

**Flick.TheLighter** – Thanks for being the _first_ reviewer for the first and second chapters and giving me rave reviews each time! Keep coming back, it's getting better!

**Dramaqueen1993** – Thank you for being a reviewer!

Chapter Title: They're Back

Warnings: Flashbacks that are slightly grotesque. But, as I said, _slightly_.

A/N: Okay, I just have to say one thing: Stephanie can only see Spot when he _wants_ her to see him. Same thing with the rest of the Newsies/reincarnations. Jack can also show himself to Stephanie if he _wants_, but there is a possibility that she won't be able to see him because he is not her "past self." So, with that said, _on with the chapter!!!_

3:43 AM

_"Oh, so _you're _da one dat's supposed ta be my "next self."_

I sat bolt upright, but I didn't say anything. This guy looked really familiar, and suddenly I knew why. It was like looking in a mirror! I could see myself everywhere on his face; the nose, the freckles, the M shaped lips. I could see the same eyes, the same eyes that looked like two chips of ice, hardened beyond their years. And even beyond the face – his fingers were long, like mine, and his posture was the same. It was the same slouch/lean that my mother constantly had to correct. We were both short, but slim.

"Well? Ya gonna say something?" he said, looking at me through narrowed eyes. He shifted a little from where he was leaning against my desk, and I could see that his clothes were well-worn, the way I liked it.

"You're my past self?" It was the only thing I stutter out.

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. It was one of my favorite expressions to use when I was exasperated with someone. "Of course I am, stupid," he snapped. "Why would I be here if I ain't?"

I scowled at him. "Then why would you have the _nerve_ to show up in my room at three thirty in the morning?" I snapped. I could feel my temper flare dangerously, but I didn't start yelling at him. I never yelled at anyone. It was always level headedness and sarcasm that won the wars.

"Because, like you, I have nerve," he said. He smirked and watched me reproachfully, like I was about to lunge at him.

"Exactly, so since I'm just like you," I said, my voice lower than usual, "you should know not to wake me up at three thirty in the morning!"

"Hey," he said, as if reprimanding a misbehaving child, "I had to wake up at five thirty every morning to work. Do you have to do that, huh?" He glared at me.

"I have to go to high school. Have you ever been there?" I shot back, glaring just the same.

"You ever have to eat what you don't sell? You ever try to get shoes on your feet? You ever goddamn try to chase the freakin' newsies from Queens out of your territory?" He was snarling now, looking like a mad animal. His fists were clenching and unclenching.

"You ever have to deal with Walking Mouths who think that they know everything and rub it in your face because you're failing math? You ever have to deal with a mother who's too concerned about her image rather than her family? You ever have to compete for the throne?" I threw my legs out from under the covers and stood up.

Suddenly, his anger melted into a smirk. "Walking Mouths?" he asked, laughing at this. "Jack is right!" he exclaimed. "This whole reincarnation thing is true!" He had to bite his lip and clutch his side to keep from laughing and waking the entire house.

"Jack?" My anger was deteriorating, feeling giving way to content. "As in Jack Kelly?"

"Yeah, you know him?" As was mine, his anger was vanishing as well. He reached into his back pocket and took out a crinkled rolling paper. Then, he reached into his front pocket and withdrew a tobacco pouch. He looked at me briefly, and then returned to his tobacco. He poured, with an expert hand, the correct amount, and then rolled the paper. The way he rolled it looked vaguely familiar, and I realized that of course it looked familiar, because I was him. He rolled it with his palms, rubbing the paper till it formed a cigarette.

He lit it and then took a drag, letting the smoke trail out of his mouth and nostrils.

"Mom catches you you're dead, you know," I said.

He blew a smoke ring and watched it fade into the ceiling. "I'm dead already, kid, if you haven't noticed."

I scowled again. I knew that.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps coming down the hallway, and he noticed my anxiety. He closed his eyes for a minute, and even before the door opened, he called, "Come on in, Sammy."

Nan peered into the room, and then, with her eyes lit up with glee, she entered the room and closed the door behind her. "Spot, you little devil, visiting the girl at four in the morning!"

I glanced at the clock and realized that it was, indeed, four o'clock in the morning. "Well, that also goes for you, Nan," I said. "What're you doing here?"

"I've come to see if Spot showed yet," she said, beaming. "I got this feeling."

"You've always called me a devil, Sammy," he said, his lips twitching into a smile. My smile. "Even when you were a little girl." He paused for a minute, and then said, "That makes me feel old."

"Jack's celebrating his thirtieth year in Heaven this week, right?" Nan asked.

Spot grinned. "Yeah, and he never lets me forget it."

"Has he found his reincarnation?" Nan seemed to have forgotten that I was there.

Spot nodded and said, "Jacqueline's giving him a run for his money." He glanced at me. "Just like this one and me. She's got that same temper!"

Nan laughed outright and came next to me. "I see you haven't been properly introduced," she said. "Stephanie, this is my grandfather, Spot Conlon. Spot, this is your reincarnation, Stephanie."

Spot spit into his hand and held it out.

I did the same, and we shook hands. It felt like the weirdest thing: Spot's hand was as cold as ice, while mine was like fire against his. We withdrew our hands quickly, examining them as if they were different.

"It's the spirit and human reaction," said Nan, as if we should know this already.

"Wait a minute. How come you're seventeen?" I knew his age right off the bat and I had no idea why.

"Because God put me back to the way I was when I had the most fun." He took a last drag on his cigarette and then snubbed it out with his foot. When he stepped back, the cigarette was gone.

I looked at Nan for confirmation and she nodded.

"Oh, goodness, I've better get going!" exclaimed Nan as she looked at the clock. It was four fifteen. "You too, Spot. She's got school tomorrow and she doesn't need you to keep her up!" Nan grinned and then turned for the door.

"I'm going up to annoy Saint Peter, anyway," he replied, shoving his hands into his pockets. "He gets mad at us newsies when we gallivant in and out of the Pearly Gates." Grinning, he tipped his hat to me, (which I could only expect to be sarcastic), and then vanished.

I felt a cold rush of air on my face, and when Nan noticed this, she said, "That was him."

Still as confused as ever, I hugged Nan goodbye and climbed back into bed. I was exhausted.

Next Day, 12:07 PM

"What kept you up last night?" Jackie set her tray down and looked at me curiously. "You look like you haven't slept for days."

My hair was disheveled, my eyes were red and I was yawning every three minutes. I glared at her and said, "My mother's cat decided to wake me up last night to feed it."

Jackie chuckled and whispered so the others couldn't hear, "Was it you're past self?"

I looked at her sharply. "How'd you know?" I said.

"Jack Kelly's found me and thinks that following me around is a sport," she said, with a hint of distaste in her words.

I laughed.

"Hey, you two over there, why are you having so much fun?" said Rachel. She fooled around with the soggy vegetables on her plate, ignoring the pungent smell coming from them. "Are you talking about the 'carnations?"

"Shush!" hissed Jackie. "No one's supposed to know."

"Who's your 'carnation, Stephie," whispered Maria.

I felt, suddenly, a cold breeze pass by my neck, and then my hair started jumping up and down and twisting in odd shapes. "Spot Conlon is," I said, yanking my hair from the invisible man's hands.

Laughter sounded softly in my ear, but nobody else seemed to have noticed.

"Mine's Mush Meyers," said Maria thoughtfully, watching my hair twirl around my head.

"And mine's some fellow called Racetrack Higgins," said Rachel. She took out the worn-out ace of Spades out of her pocket and looked at it. "He likes gambling."

"Like you do?" said Jackie.

Rachel grinned and said, "Yeah, I guess."

The invisible man finally let my hair fall against my back and moved away. I could almost hear chuckling and the slap of someone's hand and someone's shoulder, and maybe even footsteps.

"I gotta pee," said Kayla. "Anybody else want to come with me?"

I said I would go, and the two of us headed to the girls' room.

Instead of heading into a stall, I leaned against the wall and stared at the ceiling. I felt a tap on my shoulder and I whirled around, seeing no one. My temper threatened to flare, but I held it back. I could've sworn I heard someone cracking up.

"Spot, if you're here, show yourself," I hissed to the air.

I just felt another tap on my shoulder, and that was it.

A/N: Thank you, thank you. It's an okay chapter – not what I wanted to come out, but it's good enough. If I kept writing, it would be a thousand pages long instead of just six. R&R!


	4. Warning: Danger Ahead

Disclaimer: Why do you keep asking this question? I don't own it.

Shoutouts: More reviews! We're getting there, people! This grateful writer would like to thank:

**Flick.TheLighter** – Oh my goodness! You've been the _first_ replier for every single chapter! Thank you again! Keep coming back!

**Dramaqueen1993** – Thank you for reviewing again!

I would also like to thank the many people who have not reviewed (much to my disappointment, but whatever floats your boat is fine with me) but have added this story to their Favorite Story list or their Story Alert. Thank you!

Thanks again, guys! This is great!

Chapter Title: Warning: Danger Ahead

Warnings: The flashbacks are slightly grotesque.

A/N: Everyone from the Newsies movie has a reincarnation. Just a little heads-up. And the reason why Spot doesn't have a Noo Yawk accent is because I can't write it that way. It would take to long and my computer would probably explode from the effort to correct it all.

* * *

4:32 PM

I headed down to the docks after school. I was tired and a little stressed out, mostly because Spot wouldn't leave me alone during math class and my teacher ended up giving me more homework than ever before (and that was like, five pages of brain-flattening algebra.) Usually I could talk the teacher out of giving me and my friends homework, but today since Spot was constantly disrupting the class by knocking books off my desk and making Jackie laugh out loud from what he was doing to my hair.

I jammed my hands into my pockets and scuffed my feet on the sidewalk. My backpack dug into my shoulders, as if trying to be remembered. I passed the brownstones without noticing the people outside, sweeping, talking, conducting business. I was lost in my own thoughts, ignoring everything around me.

"You know, you could always tell me to stop." Spot appeared suddenly to my left, walking alongside me as if he had been there the entire time.

"And look like a freak in front of the entire math class?" I said. "Talking to thin air doesn't exactly bring up the thought 'normal'." I jammed my hands farther into my pockets.

He pondered this. "You could write it on a slip of paper and leave it on the corner of your desk."

"The Math Nazi would think I was passing notes," I muttered, kicking a wayward stone into the street. "She's a killer when it comes to that."

"Never went to school," he said. He lit a cigarette and took a drag. "Learned to read from Piper."

"Piper?"

"Piper was the girl who ran my lodging house," he said. "She didn't like having kids who didn't know how to read. So she taught me and three other kids in the cellar after selling sometimes. It was hard."

"Nan says you were a newsboy. That true?" I said.

He nodded. "Yep. Hard work, too. You eat what you don't sell, and there was always thugs trying to work you over." I thought I saw him shudder.

"Weren't you the leader of Brooklyn?" I said. I was keeping my voice low; because people would freak out if they heard someone talking to someone they couldn't see.

He laughed at this. Long and loud. When he finished, he nodded. "Leader for ten, long, hard years, kid," he said. "It's the hardest job anyone could ask for. Especially when you've got turf wars over here, and then someone dying over there…."

"People _died_?" I felt like a kid asking these questions. Then again, I was a kid. But I knew all this, since Spot was my past self and I remembered everything he remembered. It was different, though, because some details were extremely blurry and I couldn't remember who died, when and where and why.

"A newsie's life was a hard one, kid," he said. "You faced sickness, wounds, starvation, being tossed out into the snow." He took a last drag on his cigarette and tossed it into the gutter. "Only the strong and the emotionless survived."

"You mean people like you?" I said, though not unkindly.

He grinned ruefully. "I wasn't entirely emotionless. Cool beyond feeling, almost, but people like me still have hearts." He scowled. "Now why am I telling you all this?"

"Because I'm your next self," I ventured.

He shrugged and said, "I guess that's reason enough."

We reached the docks. I breathed in the salty air with a smile on my face. This was the true place I was comfortable, where I could relax and look over Manhattan and the East River in peace. I practically skipped down the dock with him trailing behind. I found the cove and slipped in.

He came in behind me, a remorseful expression on his face. "If only I'd come to this place before I died," he said quietly, looking around at the clumsy little clubhouse.

"You can still visit it, though," I said, sitting down on some of the overturned crates. I sprawled across it, my legs hanging off the side. I was tired and I just wanted to read or something, but my mind wasn't idling like it should be.

He looked at the shelf with the bottles on it and immediately went for the slingshot. Beaming, he picked it up. Inspiration dawned on him and he reached into his back pocket. He took out a stone, and then placed it inside the band. Pulling back, he shot the stone straight through the neck of the bottle, making it shatter into pieces.

"Still got it?" I said. I reached under my chair and got out a root beer.

"It feels good to shoot it again," he said, almost ruefully.

A crash outside made us both look up simultaneously. Scrambling for a peephole, we tripped over each other and finally got to the 'window' of the shack.

A person that looked abruptly masculine but was wearing woman's clothes was walking along the docks, as if searching for something. She was with another woman that had white hair and a sinister look to her face.

Spot grabbed my hand and yanked me down. "Be quiet and don't contradict me. Those women are reincarnations of bad people from my time." He glared at me as I was about to say something. "They're looking for people that are reincarnations from the newsies of 1899. They want to study you, see what goes on in your head. They won't admit to the people they're working for that they're reincarnations, but they'll gladly hand you over for some money."

I began to say something, but he shut me up my squeezing my hand hard.

"Go for the latch in the floor. I built it when I was around eleven. Quick escapes," he said.

I yanked the latch open and made a face. It led straight down to the murky water below.

"I said _go_," he hissed.

I scowled and dropped down with a splash. The water was cold and it unceremoniously splashed up onto my jeans, making me soaked above the knees. Scowling, I trudged up to the sandy bank and scrambled up.

The two women were whispering to each other and I could hear Spot moving around up there. The women stopped talking then, and I realized they could see Spot!

I felt a tap on my shoulder and I whirled around. "Would you stop doing that?" I whispered, and he smirked. He motioned for me to follow him, and we trudged up the bank to the park above.

The women were going into the clubhouse now. My clubhouse! I wanted to go back and beat the crap out of them with one hand behind my back, but Spot had taken my sleeve and was practically dragging me through the park.

Once we were walking through the park, I rounded on him. "Will you please explain to me what that was all about?" I said. "Why were they in my cove?"

"Because, like I said before, they're looking for the reincarnations so they can study you or something," he said, irritated.

Suddenly, I heard running feet behind us. I whirled around, seeing the two women running after us. Spot heard them too, and we raced along down the bike path and into downtown Brooklyn.

"Shit," hissed Spot under his breath. "I remember this."

A memory flashed before my eyelids and as I kept running, I saw a piece of Spot's past.

_The cop was chasing him through Brooklyn, nonchalantly keeping to the sidewalks and swinging his nightstick as Spot weaved through horse traffic and people, trying to lose him. But the cop had a keen eye and a way around the traffic, easily keeping up with him. Spot felt a rush of panic, though his face didn't show it, and he slipped into the alleyway that led to the docks. The cop was ten feet behind him, whistling a tune that would haunt him forever._

_"Kid," the cop called, his voice bouncing off the ways of the alley, "I strongly suggest that you just come with me to the Refuge."_

_"I doubt that," whispered Spot under his breath. He leaped up onto stacked packing crates, scrambling for the roof, but the cop had gotten hold of his shirt and yanked him down._

_"Now kid, you've been a public disturbance this past week. I've no patience for street rats like you." The cop grinned maliciously down at him and he swung his nightstick down to whack him on the backs of his legs. _

_He refused to cry out, setting his face in stone. He'd taken much more than just a swat on the legs. _

_Another blow, another silent moment of stinging pain. The cop, undoubtedly, was a bit pickled. Spot could actually smell the alcohol on the copper's breath. _

_This time, the cop whacked Spot in the back, and Spot fell against the brick wall. He still refused to cry out._

_The cop blew out of his nose in frustration, trying to get this stubborn kid to cry. _

_"Hey, Brooklyn, having a little trouble?"_

_Spot glanced over his shoulder and saw Outlaw, the leader of the girl newsies down by Central Park. He gritted his teeth and didn't respond._

_The cop whacked him again, harder than ever, and this time he let out a small, almost imperceptible whimper. The cop found pleasure in this and hit him again. This time, it was hard not to bang his fists against the wall._

_"Brooklyn, stop refusin' help." Outlaw was closer now, somewhere near the crates._

_"I don't need help!" Another hit. He welcomed the blackness that came with the head blow._

The memory stopped, all of sudden, and I realized we were running over the Brooklyn Bridge. The women were far behind us, but apparently Spot wasn't taking any chances.

My lungs fought for air and I hung over the railing, choking. I was the soon-to-be captain of the Jefferson basketball team, but I'd never run that far. I coughed into my sleeve and gazed out onto the East River. It was a different vantage point from what I was used too, plus the cars were rumbling along underneath.

Spot had vanished, probably going to relay the message to Nan.

I thought about the two ladies. There was something familiar about them, something that I could recall but couldn't name. Was it Spot's memory and not mine? No. It was mine, because it was sometime during this week.

I got it. It was on Monday, the first day of school. I went to work, and _two ladies ordered a Brooklyn specialty!_

Jumpstarted by that thought, I turned around and headed back into Brooklyn. The backpack on my shoulder was long forgotten, and my jeans were still somewhat wet from the river. I jogged over the bridge and then walked home.

"Nan!" I yelled through the house. "Nan!"

"Shhh!" Nan came down the stairs, followed by Spot and someone else. "Call your friends. Now."

"All of them?"

"All of them. Do it!"

I called Jackie first. "Jackie? Come over to my Nan's now. It's urgent."

I did the same for the rest of my friends. "Nan," I said when I hung up my cell phone for the last time, "what's going on?"

"You and your friends are in great danger," she said. "Those women that were trailing you and Spot are trying to round all of the reincarnations up and deliver them to a scientific laboratory in Death Valley, California."

"Sammy," said Spot. "Ain't it dangerous to take the reincarnations out of New York for a long time?"

"Oh yes," Nan said, her face grave. "If they take you there, there is a large chance that you and all of your friends will die."


	5. Isn't Someone Missing?

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. Gosh, you're making me depressed.

Shout Outs: Well, first I want to thank all those who _still_ didn't review but somehow added my story to their favorites list. Thank you for reading it. Drop a review and tell me how you like it!

**Flick.TheLighter** – First reviewer again! Every single chapter, you're there to review it. How can I thank you? hands cookie Is that good enough for you? Haha, just joking. Thank you so much for being the first reviewer and giving me dazzling reviews every time.

**Dramaqueen1993** – Thank you, thank you, thank you! You keep coming back, so I assume you like it! Thanks!

Chapter Title: Isn't Someone Missing?

Warnings: Nothing, really.

A/N: Every time I try to write what Spot's doing, I think I make him act like a fag. Isn't he supposed to be the tough, unforgiving King of Brooklyn? Please, advice, and no flames, please.

* * *

"_Oh yes," said Nan, her face grave. "If they take you there, there is a large chance you and all your friends will die."_

5:03

I stared at her in shock. Die? Will die? It was like a death sentence. I watched her reproachfully, to see whether or not she was just joking around. I half expected her to smile and giggle a little and say to Spot that I was gullible. But she didn't. Her face was set in granite, not moving or smiling in the least.

Spot squeezed my shoulder reassuringly and I felt that same hot/cold experience. It wasn't uncomfortable – just a little strange.

"Don't look at me like that," snapped Nan. I nearly jumped back. "This is serious business."

It took me three minutes to figure out that she was talking to someone I couldn't see and not me. I turned around a few times, seeing only her and Spot, not seeing anyone else. A little unraveled and fighting for just that last ounce of sanity that I usually found when I was having an insult fight with Alyssa, I turned back towards Nan.

"Who're you talking to?" I asked her.

She gestured vaguely to the air beside Spot. "Jack Kelly," she said, almost under her breath, and she went to the front to see if any of my friends had shown up.

I shot Spot a questioning glance and he shrugged, gesturing just a vaguely as Nan did. Exasperated, I sprawled across the recliner, not bothering to actually sit correctly. I sat with my legs over the right armrest, the rest of me cradled by the seat of the chair and the left armrest.

Jackie suddenly burst through the door. "Stephie! What's wrong?"

"Yeah, kid," said Rachel. She was behind Jackie, as well as the rest of them. "What's all this about?"

I got up, rather skillfully, I must add, and walked over to them. "Come in, guys. There's a lot to be explained."

Jackie's eyes flickered to where Spot was standing, but apparently she couldn't see him and was looking at something else. "Why are you here?" she asked.

I saw Spot's head turn to his left, where apparently there was someone.

There came the muted reply that I couldn't hear, and Jackie nodded dumbly and sat down on the couch.

Rachel, Maria, and Kayla all looked dumbfounded. Rachel was speaking quietly (for the first time in her life) to someone over her shoulder. Maria was fiddling with something her hands, and I saw her sweatshirt move a little as if someone was putting a hand on her shoulder. Kayla, the youngest of us besides me, was pale.

Nan came inside and looked at us with that stone cold look again, looking at each of us in turn. Apparently she saw each of the ghosts, because she nodded or said something quiet to whoever was behind the girls.

"Now," she said, unfolding her arms and sitting in the armchair that I once occupied. "You all understand that you're reincarnations, that whole thing, right?"

They nodded. Rachel was the first one to speak. "Made me pee my pants when I saw him."

I could almost hear a smack on Rachel's shoulder, and she whirled around to glare at the wall. I mean her ghost.

Nan looked at all the ghosts in the room, including Spot, who I could see but nobody else but Nan could. "Jack, have you seen anybody in Manhattan?"

Suddenly a blond kid appeared, leaning against the wall. He resembled Jackie almost as much as I resembled Spot – they probably had the same freckles in the same exact places. He scowled a little and said, "Nah. I think they like Brooklyn."

Spot and I scowled simultaneously.

"What's so good about Brooklyn?" said Maria. "It's not different from Manhattan."

"You'd be surprised," I said.

Maria chewed on her bottom lip and looked at Kayla for support.

Nan was pacing now. She waved her hands in exasperation and looked at the row of girls on the couch. "All of you show yourselves!" she said to the ghosts.

Three boys, all about the same age, appeared. One was chomping on a cigar and fiddling with a worn out pack of cards. The one next to him was sitting on the top of the couch and leaning against the wall. He looked bored. The one next to him was blond, with an eye patch over the right eye. Surprisingly, I knew all of their names, what they were like, what happened to them after the strike.

The girls were gasping like dead fish.

"What's the matter with you?" I asked Maria, though not unkindly.

"Nothing. I didn't know there were…five of them!"

Nan rolled her eyes, and I realized she was a lot like me and Spot. She clapped her hands, gaining everyone's attention, and looked at them all. "You all have that one thing that was special to your ghosts?"

They each pulled out something. Jackie pulled out a battered book with the title _Santa Fe_, Rachel snatched the cards from Racetrack's hands, Maria took out a small piece of blue fabric, and Kayla took out an eye patch.

Nan turned to me. "Where's yours?"

"Upstairs," I replied simply.

"Go get it."

"Go get it, _please_," I said.

Nan nodded, "Yes, yes, play your games, you. Go get it."

I ran up the stairs and went to the room I slept in when Mom dumped me here when she was especially busy. It wasn't like I could stay at home alone. She was afraid I would burn the house down.

I dug through the jewelry box and found the felt pouch. I opened it, found the key, and put it around my neck. Suddenly, I felt that same warm-cold thing that I felt whenever Spot touched me, whether it's by accident or on purpose.

I ran down the stairs, three at a time, and dropped onto the landing with a reassuring _thump_. I walked back into the living and sat down on the floor, crossing my legs Indian-style like an eager student.

"Good, we all have it. Now, these open connections to your ghost or reincarnation. You each have one of the same things. Spot and Stephie have the key necklace" – she ignored Jack's snort of amusement – "Mush and Maria have the fabric, Race and Rachel have cards, Jack and Jacqueline the book, Kid Blink and Kayla have the eye patch."

I raised my hand.

"Yes, Stephanie?" She only called me Stephanie when she was especially annoyed at me, like then.

"And what importance do they have?" I was being dumb just to annoy her.

"You know full well, Stephanie Ann," she replied sternly.

Spot cracked up next to me. "Stephanie _Ann?_" he choked.

"You got a problem with that?" I stood up and we glowered at each other.

"No time for a catfight, ladies," said Racetrack from the couch.

We both turned towards him at the same time, glaring at him. "We'll wipe the floor with you."

Nan pushed me back and along with me went Spot. We both sprawled across the floor, angry. "I won't take anymore of this from you!" she said angrily. "You're like children." She whirled and faced Jack. "And don't you say anything!"

"What?" he said incredulously. "Didn't do nothing."

She sighed and looked at us all. "I won't put it lightly. You're all in danger, meaning in the reincarnations. You're being monitored and trailed by two women, who are also reincarnations from the 1899 Newsies strike."

"You guys are that old?" said Maria, looking over her shoulder at Mush.

"You don't seem to grasp the severity of this situation," said Nan with a sigh. "You could all be killed."

Silence. Dead and utter silence.

"Really?" Rachel was the first to speak. "So…those women could kill us. How?"

"There are a million ways to kill a person," said Nan. "You five are very particular, though."

"What do you mean by that?" said Jackie. "You mean we're special?"

"In a way, yes," said Nan. "Stephanie can only be killed by endless torture. When I say endless, I mean rough, rigorous and first-degree torture. You, Jackie, can only die in Santa Fe. That's where Jack died and that's where you will die."

"Wow," I said, regaining my sarcasm. "Very grim futures, huh? I mean, look at me. I have a future of endless torture."

"Not nessicairily. You may survive."

"That's reassuring," I said in an undertone.

"How do I die?" Rachel actually sounded just a tad curious.

"You want to know that?" said Kayla, her voice a little more than a terrified squeak.

"Girls, no need to find out how you die." Nan looked exasperated. "Anyway, I want you to stay together at school, outside, and to _not_ draw attention to yourselves" – a knowing glance was sent my way – "and always keep your items with you. It opens communication."

"How does it open communication?" I asked, no longer sarcastic.

"Spot," Nan gave control to him.

_You talk like this._ I could hear Spot's voice clearly in my head, as if he were talking to me. But his mouth wasn't moving, but I could hear that annoying voice that could wake me up at three o'clock in the morning.

"No way," I said.

"Yes way," said Nan. "The rest of you can do it, too, but only with the items on your person."

And off we went having silent conversations with our ghosts, and they cheerily answered.

Nan called our attention back and said, "Well, I guess that you should all head home. I'm here for you if you have any questions at all. Oh, and don't say anything to your parents about this. They should know already, but I am supposed to be your Confidante and I'm the one you come to for answers."

We split up. Jackie hopped on the bus back to Manhattan, along with the rest of them. I just realized that they all went to a Brooklyn school, where I went, and not at their own Manhattan school.

_They go to your school because you all have to be together._ Spot was talking to me again, but I didn't know how he figured that out.

_I figured that out because you practically said it. What you say in your mind I can hear, but only if I want to hear it._

_Can I push you out of my mind?_ I asked him.

I could almost hear a smirk as he said, _Only if you take the key off, which would be pretty disastrous._

_I had no idea you had such a broad vocabulary. For a New Yorker you make yourself sound like the King of England,_ I said. Well, thought.

_When you read the newspaper everyday, you kind of pick up the words,_ he said.

I just realized something. _Wait! Isn't Diana Jacobs or whatever her name is a reincarnation too?_

Spot appeared on my left and we started conversing with speaking.

"Yeah, I guess," he said. "Why?"

"I didn't call her! She's new at my school and I didn't like her, so we never got exactly 'friendly'," I said. "Nan didn't talk to her, and she's oblivious to everything but her schoolwork!"

Spot thought for a minute. "I didn't know that," he said. "I'll tell Sammy."

And with that, he disappeared.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading, again! Please help out with the Spot thing. (If you forget what that is, please scroll to the top.) Anyway, I got that mind-speaking thing from _Eragon_ and I thought that was ingenious, so I must say this: that mind speaking thing does not belong to me. It belongs to Christopher Paolini, the rightful owner. Thanks again! 


	6. The Chase

-1Disclaimer: I do not, unfortunately, own _Newsies._ I do, however, own all the reincarnations. And apparently I don't own Gucci or Nextel. And Solomon & Winter is a made up designer.

Summary: Things heat up as the reincarnations are chased halfway across Brooklyn and Stephanie starts having disturbing dreams about her past self.

A/N: I'm EXTREMELY sorry about not posting another chapter in like two months, more than that. But I am sorry, and so here's an extra-long chapter! I want to thank all of those readers who've left reviews and thanks to those who've helped me out on Spot's personality! Thanks a lot, and here's the story.

I shoved my hands into my pockets and glared at Jackie. "Are you suddenly feeling sympathetic or something?" I asked her, my lips curling into a scowl. "The kid thinks that she's at the top of the food chain now just because she's hanging around with _you._ She likes picking on me because I'm failing math --"

"Has it ever occurred to you that you might be making fun of her?" she interrupted, looking directly into my eyes. She was defiant like that and knew my weaknesses, which I resented. She knew how to get inside of me and knock down that protective wall. "She's a new kid, Steph, and she needs the support. It won't kill you to at least be friendly --"

"But it's _our_ poker game," I protested. I glanced around at the busy cafeteria and lowered my voice. "The 'carnation's poker game. The first poker game that we agreed --"

"She's a reincarnation too, Stephie," she said. She flipped her blond hair out of her eyes and smiled kindly at a freshman who walked past and waved shyly at her. She turned back to me and her gaze hardened. She liked having this control over me, I could tell. "And it's just one poker game."

"At the docks!" I said. "My docks!" I was behaving like a child, a whining, spoiled brat. I gritted my teeth and I wasn't going to give up this fight. I was not going to have the Walking Mouth at my poker game, no matter how friendly Jackie was with her. Besides, who could be friends with a know-it-all who liked to bother you about your math grade?

"Steph, you're acting like a ten-year-old," said Jackie, taking a dollar out of her pocket and heading towards the vending machines. I got up and followed her. "Come on, it's just one game. All the others said they didn't mind."

"That's because the Mouth is _nice_ to them," I said, leaning against the vending machine and surveying the cafeteria. There was the football team, the cheerleading team full of white-blond "like, whatever" girls, the geeks, the Anime club, and all the other clubs and societies within the wonderful Jefferson High.

"Like I said, be nice to her and she'll be nice to you." She bent down to retrieve her orange soda and then stood up. She opened it and looked at me while taking a swig. "Besides," she said, swallowing, "what've you got against her?"

"Nothing," I snapped, setting my face into stone. I had lost the argument because Jackie was playing good cop. I looked towards the cafeteria entrance and saw Alyssa Giovanni enter with her usual backups of white-blond "like, whatever" zombies following behind her with their Gucci purses and designer wear.

"I see Kayla and Maria," said Jackie, snapping me out of my murderous thoughts of the many ways to get rid of Alyssa without causing a scene, "and Jack."

I followed her grudgingly, like a reluctant puppy. Maria and Kayla's faces lit up when they saw us and invited us to sit down. I slid in next to Maria and cupped my chin in my hand, looking for some source of entertainment. I wished vaguely that maybe someone would spill a smoothie and Alyssa would slip and fall in it.

"Oh my god!" The shout came to late, and I heard a scream and a hard _thunk_ on the floor.

I turned around and saw Alyssa Giovanni sliding down the Cafeteria Catwalk on her back, a trail of strawberry smoothie behind her. I burst into laughter at this, no matter what my personality was slowly turning into. She slid all the way to the vending machines, where she got up and stamped her foot in a hissy-fit. The back of her white Solomon & Winter tank top was pink and sloppy.

Spot suddenly appeared to my left, a smirk playing at his lips. "Your welcome."

I turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "What am I thanking you for?" I asked, still smiling from the whole smoothie episode.

"For that," he said, gesturing to Alyssa and her friends. "You thought it and I said, why not? And there she is. That stuff's gonna stain."

"You did that?" I looked at the trail of sticky strawberry goo down the Catwalk and the dean standing over it, radioing her bosses that something has occurred in the cafeteria.

"Yeah," he said with a small shrug. "There's your entertainment." And with that, he vanished.

I scowled and turned to Jackie. "Spot did that," I said.

"You're kidding!" said Maria, looking at me with large brown eyes. "Mush wouldn't do something like that."

Kayla elbowed her with a shy smile. "That's because he's too nice, like Blink."

"Kid Blink's to happy-go-lucky, 'let's love everyone'!" I said. I turned away from the scene and looked out the window. There were two figures that certainly didn't look like a teacher or any other faculty member that I knew, and I knew everyone. Confused, I looked harder, and recognized them as the two women from the docks and the pizzeria. "Uh, guys…"

"Alyssa's such a brat," said Jackie observantly. "Reminds me of someone." She was probably glaring at me, but I was slowly rising out of my seat and staring out the window. "Steph? Steph, what's wrong?"

"Oh, crap," I said, narrowing my eyes. "It's those two schmucks from the docks."

Jackie stood up to look, too, and so did Maria and Kayla. "The two women your grandma was talking about?" asked Jackie, and Kayla added, "The ones who want to hurt us?"

"Yeah," I said. _Yo, Spot, get over here,_ I shouted to him with my mind. We could do that, shout with our minds at each other. It was a luxury from this whole reincarnation thing.

_What?_ His voice rang out in my head, clearly annoyed. _We're playing poker._

_I don't care what you're doing,_ I said, touching the key necklace around my throat. I kept touching it and felt it getting warm. _We've got a problem._

_Explain._ He was totally focused now, probably from the urgency in my thought-voice thing.

_Those two women from the docks are here, in the schoolyard,_ I said. Jackie, Maria, Kayla and I were already moving quickly out of the cafeteria. _Get down here or tell us what to do. Are the others talking to their ghosts?_

_Yeah, they are, _he said. _Are Rachel and Diana with you?_

_No_, I said. We were practically running down the empty hallway now, looking frantically either for our ghosts or for our friend and Diana. _Tell us what to do!_

_Find them._

"Guys," I said loudly, calling for their attention. "Find Rachel and Diana. Now!" I stood on my tiptoes to look into a classroom -- Rachel and Diana had totally different classes than any of us. It was the social studies classroom. Rachel was in there. I knocked on the door and opened it without getting permission to enter. "Uh, Mr. Adams? Rachel Higgins is needed down at the dean's office."

"Uh, o-okay?" he replied. He stuttered.

Rachel stood up and came out into the hallway, closing the door behind her. She looked at me with confused, dark chocolate eyes. "What's wrong?" she said in her thick Manhattan brogue. "You lied in there."

"I know I did," I said, heading down the hallway. I turned around and gestured for her to follow. "There's something wrong going on around here."

"What's going on?" she asked more urgently. "Tell me!"

"The women Nan was telling us about, they're here," I said, looking down another hallway for the rest of them. "And they're here for blood. They've found us."

Jackie and the rest of them weren't anywhere. I scowled in frustration and tried to keep my cool. I just needed to find them. We weren't connected like Spot and I were, and that was a major problem.

_ Jackie's on the second floor_, said Spot in my mind. I guess he liked helping out in a moment of crisis. _In the science lab._

"Come on," I said to Rachel out loud, and started climbing the stairs to at a time. Adrenalin was pumping through my veins at the idea of a chase, maybe a fight. I always got like this when something exciting was about to happen. The air was thick with tension as I got off on the second floor, gesturing for Rachel to keep close to me.

Jackie and the rest of them, including Diana, were already heading down the hallway towards us. When they saw us, they broke into a nervous jog, like a pack of anxious wolves. Or maybe cows.

"Jackie," I said, "we gotta get out of here."

"I know that!" she said. Her voice was strained from worry and excitement, and her brown eyes were lit with a spark I've never seen before. "Call your grandmother."

"I can't," I said. "Dean James confiscated my cell phone two days ago." My temper flared at memory, and a cold hand squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. Spot was here. _Finally, _I said to him with my mind. _Did you guys come from the farthest part of Heaven or something?_

"I've got a cell phone!" crowed Diana triumphantly. She reached into her fake Coach bag and withdrew a Nextel. "Here." She handed me the phone.

I dialed Nan's home phone and nervously tapped my palm against my thigh and started pacing. The ringing went on endlessly, and I was about to hang up when Nan answered with a hoarse "Hello?"

"Nan, it's Stephanie," I said in a hushed whisper. "Two women, the ones from the docks, the ones you told us to stay away from? They're here."

"At your school?" she asked.

"Yeah, Nan, where else?" I said, my temper and my shortage of patience getting the best of me. "You need to get us out of here. It's getting close to fourth period and the bell's going to ring soon. The chaos will be their best diversion to come and get us." I had no idea how I knew that. Was it from watching the _Bourne_ movies?

"None of you have a car?" she asked.

"We're sixteen!" I said, my voice rising a note.

"The biggest thing is keeping calm," she said. I heard things moving and thought she was getting ready to come and get us. "I can't get you all in my car. There are five of you and only four seats…"

"We'll take the subway, then," I said. "I'll call you later." I shut the cell phone and shoved it hastily into Diana's hands. "Come on, we've got to get out of here." I started hurrying down the stairs, the rest of them following behind.

"Steph," said Jackie breathlessly, catching up with me after I'd leaped the final five steps and landed hard on the ground, "don't you think taking the subway is a little reckless?"

"Risks are my middle name, Jackie," I said, whipping around a corner and stopping short when I saw the dean…and the two women following behind her.

"There they are!" shouted the white haired one, and they both started chasing after us.

"Back it up!" shouted Rachel, and we all sprinted towards the front lobby, me and Jackie in the lead.

We bumped into a strange lady, who looked a little flustered. She was probably new.

"Hey!" she yelled after us. "Since when could you run in the halls?"

"Can't talk," said Jackie as we rounded another corner, trying to get to the front lobby. We were slipping and sliding on the polished linoleum floor.

"Wait!"

Maria, Kayla and Jackie slid to a stop, me and Diana still running. I finally stopped when I realized that they weren't going to keep running. Party poopers.

"I'm Briana Denton," she said. "To you guys, Ms. Denton. Can I ask why you're running in the hall?"

"Long story," said Jackie. She was about to say more when the two women chasing us rounded the corner down the hall and came charging at us. "Gotta go!"

"Maybe I could help," she said, and that was the last thing we heard her say, because we finally burst through the front lobby's doors and out into the warm sunshine.

Believe me, it wasn't cheery at all. Our sneakers and in Diana's case, Sunday school shoes, pounded the pavement as we ran out of the parking lot and out onto the campus. My breath was hitching in my throat and a sharp pain dug into the area beneath my ribcage. My legs were screaming for mercy and I was trying me hardest not to let my knee give out. I had injured it in a street basketball game when I was ten years old -- it had bothered me ever since.

"Steph, keep up!" shouted Rachel over her shoulder.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw the two women exiting the parking lot right then. Suddenly a thought hit me. Why weren't the ghosts here with us? I scowled and kept running, trying hard to keep up with the group.

"Stop those kids!" shouted one of the women behind us. It was the large, fat one who was lumbering behind the white haired one.

We kept running into the heart of downtown Brooklyn, my adrenalin the only thing keeping me running. We headed towards the Bridge, closer to Nan's house. We didn't even bother to hurry down the subway steps. I didn't know how we were going to run so far.

"Go into the deli on your right!" I shouted over the din of the crowd, and we shoved people out of the way to duck into the deli. I shut the door behind us and slid easily into a booth, trying my hardest not to barf my guts out.

"Everyone take a breather," said Jackie in a leader-y way.

"What the hell do they _want_?" panted Rachel, slamming her fist on the fake wood tabletop. "What the hell's so special about five sixteen year olds who happen to see ghosts of their former selves?"

"That's…just it, Rachel," I said, swallowing painfully. My throat was a dry as the desert and my lungs probably looked like ripped pieces of pink paper. "We're special."

"But do they need to freakin' chase us halfway to Manhattan?" said Kayla. She was nervous and shaky now, maybe more from the scare rather than the run.

"It's healthy, at least," I said, a sad attempt at sarcastic humor.

_You okay?_ asked Spot. He appeared at another table, looking directly at me with stone cold blue gray eyes.

_Nice of you to finally show up,_ I said nastily. I was so pissed right now. _Where the hell were you?_

_Trying to get Sammy for you,_ he said. He glared at me after processing the nastiness in my voice. _But apparently I'm not appreciated._

_Oh, cry me a river, _I said. _I hate it when you look for pity like this. _

He scowled at me. _I tried, okay? I can't do everything._

"Uh, Steph?" said the Mouth, interrupting my conversation and severing the connection between me and Spot. "They're across the street."

I sat up in my seat and peered over the booth's wall. There they were, asking passerby questions. I sank back down in my seat and felt defeated inside, but I didn't show it.

_Don't you dare give up,_ snapped Spot in my mind. His voice didn't sound angry, but it was laced with steel. _I will haunt you until you're ninety…if you survive that long._

_Thanks for the support Spot, _I said. "Okay, any ideas?"

"Let's get to your Nan's house," said Maria. "She'll know what to do."

"All in favor?" Jackie always went for the democratic way to do things.

We all raised our hands.

**Nan's House, 2:35 P.M.**

Nan was pacing. She never paced. Ever. She was the cool, calm and collected one in our family, and it was my mother who did most of the pacing. But Nan right now was walking a mile in her own house, taking five steps at a time. Her head was bent and she was tapping her wrinkled finger against her lips. She was thinking of something, planning, forming something in her mind.

We were sitting sprawled across the couch. I had my elbows on my knees, staring at the carpet. Jackie was next to me, staring blankly at the wall. She was probably talking with Jack Kelly. Maria and Kayla looked like nervous second graders. Rachel was shuffling her worn pack of cards. Diana was watching Nan intently.

"It was a close call," said Nan finally. "Too close to be a close call." She stopped pacing and faced us all. "You had responsibilities. You did not take care of them and now look where you've landed."

"Nan--" I started, but she held up a hand and stopped me.

"Don't," she said, that same steel lacing her words like Spot's had. "I won't tolerate any cheek from you."

"It wasn't--"

"Didn't I say to stop?" Her face was hard now and she looked at all of us instead of just glaring at me. "Those responsibilities were to stay clear of these two women. Do you have any idea of what kind of danger you were in back there? When I was a sixteen-year-old, my friends and I weren't as _careless."_

I didn't bother to say anything this time. I sat back and folded my arms, defiantly looking Nan in the eyes and daring her to look at me. I hated it when we fought, but we were so alike that it seemed that we butted heads all the time. Same with Spot and I. Two hammerhead sharks.

"But that's besides the point." Nan began her pacing again. "How do you think they found you?"

"Ahem," said Diana. "Technically anyone could find anyone with the right technology. You're listed anywhere. You could be found in the phonebook, from your computer, even the patron list at the library."

"Thank you for that interesting insight, Diana," said Nan. I could hear the barely hidden sarcasm that was more typical of me and Spot rather than Nan.

"You're all sleeping here tonight," she continued. "I don't want you and your families endangered from this entire thing. I also want to talk to you about the strike of 1899. You need to know."

I shifted excitedly. I've never actually delved into my past. Or Spot's past. Whatever.

She disappeared into the basement, and whispers broke out.

"We weren't careless," whispered Kayla. "Were we?"

"Someone gave us the slip," growled Rachel. She shoved her cards back into their box angrily and tossed them from hand to hand. "Betchya it was Alyssa."

"Nah," said Jackie. She was calm. She was turning the pages in her _Santa Fe_ book quickly with her thumb. She sniffed and then said, "She didn't give us the slip."

Suddenly my hand wavered towards my back pocket automatically, like I was reaching for something. I knew nothing was there, so why was I reaching back? I realized that Spot sometimes carried his slingshot with him in his back pocket, and in tense situations he liked to shoot marbles at beer bottles. I hastily shoved my hand into my front pocket and closed my eyes.

_I hate it when it gets like this._ Spot appeared in the armchair. _Everyone's so dramatic. Just find a solution to problem and be done with it for crap's sake._

_Not as easy as it sounds, Spot,_ I said. I yawned. God, I was tired.

I didn't even realize I was asleep until I saw _Spot walked down a cobblestone street, walking straight past me without acknowledging me or recognizing me at all. He was walking with his shoulders squared, his head tilted slightly to the left, a patronizing smirk on his face. He was swinging a gold-tipped cane, something I've seen before in his belt loop. Behind him were his two accomplices, Dizzy and Coal. How I knew their names, I had no idea._

_"Coal," said Spot easily. His voice sounded young like it was when I talked to him. "Explain to me again why Midtown wants to talk with me?"_

_The kid named Coal was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark black eyes that evidently gave him his name. He was probably Spot's second-in-command. "Midtown thinks you've soaked some of their boys on purpose." His voice was deep and rough, like sandpaper._

_Spot's smirk widened as they turned a corner, walking into an alleyway beside a pub. He slid his cane into his belt loop like sheathing a sword, then turned to the two boys behind him. He nodded to each of them, as if blessing them before going into battle. He turned, yanked open the door of the pub, and stepped inside._

_I followed. The pub was seedy and dark, with dim lights and dusty shot glasses. Men crowded around the tables, playing cards and smoking. The strong stench of cigarette smoke clogged my nostrils and I sneezed, but nobody turned to look at me. I stepped over a knocked out drunk on the floor and slid in next to Spot when he sat down at a table across from a kid my age, sixteen perhaps, with a shock of curly red hair._

_"You've caught my attention," said Spot, his voice smooth. His eyes were bright with the anticipation of making a deal, maybe the idea of a rumble. His hands were still, folded neatly on top of each other. "Are you marking Brooklyn with blame?"_

_The Midtown leader's back stiffened and his emerald eyes turned cold. He dipped his head, agreeing to Spot's words. "You've crossed the line many times, King," said the leader, his words sliding out with malice. "I'm tired of it, as well are my boys."_

_"I don't give a damn about your boys," spat Spot, his easiness suddenly replaced with a voice laced with ice. "You sent an assassin -- you broke rule number one in our deal, Xavier."_

_What a fancy name for a Midtown kid. I shifted next to Spot, accidentally touching his shoulder. He glanced down for a split second, and then turned his icy blues back on the Midtown king._

_"We had no deal, Spot," he said. He started turning his shot glass, the ice clinking together. This unsettled me. "You're the one who broke it. Three weeks ago."_

_Spot's face hardened and his lips pressed into a thin line. Then he relaxed. "That assassin was all you, X. You sent him to my lodging house in the dead of night and killed Tuck. Why? Because you wanted revenge."_

_Xavier scowled and stopped turning his shot glass. He threw the rest of the amber liquid back, swallowed, and then wiped his eyes. Both me and Spot noticed that there were tears in his eyes -- from the alcohol, mind you. He cleared his throat and said, "I say we have a rumble."_

_Spot smirked once more, the light in his eyes returning. "A rumble, huh?" His smirk widened. "I accept."_

_Coal and Dizzy shifted uncomfortably. Dizzy leaned over and whispered into Spot's ear._

_"You doubt me?" He glared at Dizzy and then turned back to Xavier. "Your challenge, your terms. Place?"_

_"The harbor." Xavier swallowed again, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down._

_"The steelyards," said Spot. The two of them shook hands, sealing the term. "Weapons?"_

_"Knives."_

_"Guns."_

_"Chains." Xavier's hands started fidgeting._

_"Bottles." Spot remained cool as a cucumber. He tapped the table and bartender nodded at him. Spot had one arm flung over the booth's barrier, the arm closest to me, like he knew I was there._

_"Bricks."_

_"_Plain skin_." It was my voice, not Spot's. I was shocked at myself. Slowly, I came too, and realized that both me and Spot had spoken at the same time, so that Xavier the Midtown leader hadn't noticed a thing. Freaky how great minds think alike, huh?_

_The bartender arrived with a shot glass of whiskey on the rocks. He placed it in front of Spot, and Spot nodded at him in thanks. The bartender turned and walked back to the bar._

_Spot sipped the whiskey, never taking his eyes off Xavier. He made it a point to place the glass down slowly and never cough, swallow or wipe his eyes. He didn't need too wipe his eyes, because he had probably drunk much more than Xavier. "One on one, or the whole thing?" he asked._

_"It's a rumble, ain't it?" asked Xavier with a small smile that Spot didn't return. He extended his hand. "Rumble it is."_

_Spot shook._

"Stephanie!" My grandmother's sharp voice woke me up with a jerk. I nearly banged heads with a concerned looking Jackie. "You've fallen asleep."

"I noticed that," I said coolly, scooting back on the sofa and scowling. I was drenched in a cold sweat that was slowly dripping down my spine and it tickled like hell. I wiped my forehead and noticed that everyone was staring at me. "What?"

"What was the dream about?" asked Nan.

"Spot was at a war council," I said. I got up and went into the kitchen, where Spot was sitting nonchalantly on the counter and smirking at me. "Did you send that to me?" I snapped, glowering at him.

He looked amused. "Yes," he said, smirking more. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Oh, shut up."

"You asked me a question," he said. He hopped down from the counter and stood at my side, watching me reach into the refrigerator and take out a bottle of water. "So I answered it."

"I hate you," I spat angrily. I retreated back into the living room, greeted by more moon-eyed stares.

_You're welcome to it,_ replied Spot mockingly in my head, _but you can't get rid of me._

"In 1899," began Nan, seated in the armchair Spot had occupied before I had fallen asleep. "Joseph Pulitzer and William Randolph Hearst were always at their throats, trying to outsell each other's papers. The whole thing was, the newsies were the ones selling the papers, working from the early morning till late into the night, hawking headlines and only getting a few pennies out of it every day. It was hard work, and each of the newsies tried to stay in high spirits during all of this.

"One day, Pulitzer raised the prices one tenth of a cent higher than they were before. It was already costing the newsies a penny a paper, and that was a lot of money to them. Their sales from the day before were their money to buy more papes. This triggered the Newsies' Strike of 1899.

"There were several leaders in this. One leader from every borough, but two leaders were extremely important to this process. Jack Kelly and David Jacobs, along with the rest of the newsies, like Kid Blink and Mush, led the Manhattan newsies during the strike. Now, the only way they were going to win the trust of the other boroughs' newsies was to get Brooklyn on their side. Spot Conlon, the leader at the time, thought it was a bad idea at first. He figured that the Manhattan newsies would chicken out once someone came running at them with a club. Eventually, Brooklyn accepted, and the entire thing was eventually won."

"There's a catch," said Diana slowly after Nan's voice at silenced. "There's…a big catch. Davey's sending it to me but I don't know what it is."

Nan's face paled and she shook her head sharply at the invisible ghost over Diana's shoulder. "David!" she practically shouted. "Don't you dare, not yet!"

Diana calmed down a little after that.

"Steph, go show them where the sleeping bags are. I've got to talk to these juvenile delinquents about how they should protect you." Nan's voice got harder and she stared at the wall, where five invisible spirits sat.

We walked downstairs into the musty basement, waiting until we were out of earshot until we started whispering.

"Who's scared?" asked Diana quietly.

We all raised our hands.

**Author's Note: **Well, there you have it. A super duper long chappie for you! Enjoy and review!


	7. Can't Swim

Disclaimer: I do not own _Newsies_. I wish I did, though.

Author's Note: Thanks goes out to the reviewers! You all get cookies! Oh, I don't know exactly if Spot can swim or not, but in this story he never learned how, so Stephanie never learned how.

**5:27 A.M. Sunday Morning**

The early morning air was gentle against my face as I walked towards the docks. My bare feet made no sound, a knapsack slung over my shoulder. The skies were still dark, but growing lighter by the moment. The streets were silent, no cars and no headlights passed me. The wind blew gently in the trees, whispering to me, talking to me. Don't call me crazy.

I breathed in the smell of car exhaust and street tar, closing my eyes for a moment and letting my feet take me wherever. The sidewalk was rough underneath them, but I ignored the growing numbness. I was so sick of being in that living room, listening to everyone sleep meanwhile I was the one staring at the ceiling, thinking over this entire thing. 

I liked going out to the bridge sometimes and watching the sun come up over the arches. The river was glittering with newborn sunlight, and the seagulls were just waking up, squawking angrily at each other. It was when the city woke up, when everyone rose with the same thought in their heads: to get through the day. I sat on the railing, watching early morning commuters in their SUVs and expensive sedans flash beneath my feet. I got a feeling of peace there, watching life pass me by without a second glance. I always liked the docks better, though. It was peaceful.

I sighed and turned the corner, smelling the river water mix with the stench of cars. My steps hurried, and I reached the bridge quickly. I looked up at its arches, looking at the brown bricks with a bit of pride. I breathed deeply again and hopped up on the railing, careful not to push myself over accidentally. I took the knapsack off and peered inside at its contents -- nothing but a pair of shoes and some socks. I didn't bother to pack something to eat. 

The breeze blew my hair out of its elastic as I stared out at the still dark water. It was flat, still, like a sheet of dark indigo glass. It, too, whispered to me, and if I closed my eyes and listened closely, I could hear the shouts and cries and laughter of the rough-and-tumble newsies that Spot had fearlessly led over his ten years of rule. 

That led me to another question. Was Spot really fearless? No one couldn't not have any fears. I was scared at times. Like when we were running. I feared I was going to be left behind in the dust, carted off wherever they were going to take me while my friends got their freedom. 

"Thinking?" The voice didn't startle me. I had a feeling he would be here.

"Yeah," I said, looking out on the water again, my eyes open. "Why aren't you in Heaven somewhere, playing poker with your friends?" I didn't look at him. I didn't need too.

"I had a feeling someone needed me more," he said, somewhat in a monotone. "So here I am." I could hear him shift. Even if he was a ghost, you could hear him do things. 

Silence followed. We sat there in companionable silence, waiting for the sun to come up. He disappeared for a moment, and then returned. 

"I watched sunrises, too." His voice sounded rueful, dazed. "But only when I really needed it."

"I understand," I said. "You have to keep your pride." We fell into silence again, and then the sun started coming up.

The sun cast thousands of yellow streaks of light across the water, temporarily blinding me. The water shimmered, and the light flashed across the glass plated buildings. Clouds were colored pink and orange and red, and I loved it. The air got brighter, smelled newer in a way. Gold and silver mists rose from the water, swirling and dancing. Sunrises were hypnotic, in a way. 

Spot stiffened next to me, and then bent over and whispered in my ear, "Sammy's pretty mad."

I jumped off the railing and then started putting my shoes on -- I had totally lost track of time. I pulled on my Converses and then bolted for home, Spot already gone. 

"Where have you _been_?" hissed Nan angrily, glaring harshly at me. "And when I clearly told you that you couldn't leave the house! Do you know how much trouble you're in, young lady?"

"Nan, I was only gone for a few minutes," I said, my voice hard. I was gripping the edge of the counter so hard my knuckles were white. I was trying to hard to control my anger, and I wished Spot was next to me, defending me, instead of sitting on the top of the refrigerator smirking.

"A few minutes!" she repeated, her voice icy. "You were gone for a full hour, Stephanie Ann! How _dare_ you!"

"Nan, stop treating me like _a child_!" I said angrily, narrowing my eyes. I hated yelling at my grandmother, but things were just going out of control. And besides, where were my parents? I haven't talked to them in about two days. "You were a teenager once, Nan. Think about it."

"You seem to be going off on a whim, Stephanie," she said coolly. "This is serious. You lose focus one time in this and you lose the entire game. Think about _that_. When your foolishness gets you or your friends killed, how will you feel about it then? Cursed to walk the earth for all eternity because you didn't do what you were supposed to do!"

I felt my jaw tighten and I released my grip on the counter, glaring at her. "This is my life, Nan," I said, steel hardening my words and I actually saw that mask on Nan's face falter a little, "and I think you're trying to use me to fix all the mistakes _you_ made when you were my age."

"Stephanie, stop being such a --"

"Nan, listen to me." I saw her falter once more, and I grabbed up this opportunity like a pit bull snatched up a steak. "How do I know you won't run the first time some goon comes at you with a club?" 

Whoa. That was a new one.

"Are you saying you don't trust me?" asked Nan slowly.

"I'm not sure if I do," I said, breathing deeply. I turned on my heel and ran out of the house, back towards the bridge.

"Stephanie!" That was Jackie. She was chasing after me. "Wait, wait, hang on!"

I stopped and glared at her. "What?" I wasn't happy, and she could see it. I scowled at her and walked away, trying to at least regain what was left of my sanity. And yes, now you can call me crazy.

"Wait." I stopped. I turned around. I glared.

"C'mon, Stephie," said Jackie pleadingly. She never pleaded before. "Stick with us. We're not gonna make it on our own."

The rest of them, Maria, Rachel, Diana and Kayla all came up behind Jackie and nodded. Diana stepped forward.

"Well, you're the key," she said. "David said that Spot Conlon was one of --" she paused, and then started again, "--was _the_ most respected newsie of all of New York…and maybe everywhere else. And since you're his reincarnation, I guess you're the most respected "newsie" in all of New York, and maybe everywhere else. You gotta stick with us. You--you just gotta!"

"Listen to her, Steph," said Jackie, taking out that stupid Santa Fe book again and thumbing through it nervously. It was a habit she picked up. "She's got brains…and if you have more than half of one you'd listen to her."

"Yeah," I said, narrowing my eyes at her. "I got brains. And more than just half of one. But this…this is different."

I started walking away, but they all followed me. I mean literally followed me to the docks, where Spot was sitting casually on the crates, holding cards. I walked right past him to the water, sitting down carefully and looking down at my cloudy reflection in the water.

Jackie sat next to me.

"This is so _stupid_," I said angrily, punching the post next to me. "Why us?"

She shrugged and squinted at the Manhattan skyline. Maybe she was thinking about her parents. "Because," she said, shrugging again. "It happened."

Rachel suddenly came out of nowhere, a bright smile on her face. She started at the end of the dock, and then came charging down, jumping off the dock and into the river. "Whoo!" she shouted, doing a flip into the water.

"Rachel, are you nuts?" called Jackie, grinning down at her friend. "It's October! It's too cold to be swimming!"

"I got skin of steel!" she yelled, dunking her head under water and coming back up, grinning wildly. "Come on in, the water's great!" She splashed around, her sleeves trailing a little in the water.

"Your mom's gonna kill you if you go home like that!" Maria shouted over the edge, leaning against a post. 

"C'mon, Maria!" Kayla burst out of nowhere and leaped into the water, her howls reaching the sky when she crashed into the murky river. "It's c-c-cold!"

Diana Jacobs hesitated for a moment, and then leaped into the water and doing a wicked belly-flop. She came up, wincing. "Oww!"

Rachel started laughing, and so did Jackie, and so did Maria and Kayla. I was the only one not smiling. I was more like smirking, watching them dive into the water. Maria did a fantastic front flip and landed smoothly into the water like it was nothing.

"I didn't take diving classes for five years for nothing!"

Jackie eventually dived in, her teeth chattering immediately. She looked up and waved. "C'mon, Stephie, be a good sport…"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I'm not coming in." There was a reason behind that, too. I hate to admit it, but I can't swim. At all. I sink, I don't float. I never learned how.

"Chicken!" shouted Rachel, making clucking noises. 

"What?" I was a little ticked off now, being that they called me chicken. I scowled and shouted down to them: "I can't swim!"

"What?" they called back, cupping their hands over their ears. "I can't hear you!"

"_I can't swim!"_

"Hey, you!" A short Italian boy that looked suspiciously like Rachel appeared next to me, smoking a cigar. "Yeah, you. Ain't you Spot's 'carnation or somthin' like that?" he asked, taking a drag on his cigar.

I nodded. "That's me. What's it to you?"

"I'll let you in a little secret." He glanced both right and left, and then leaned forward and staged whispered, "Spot can't swim, neither."

"Race!" Spot's slightly furious voice careened off the docks as he came marching towards the short Italian boy, scowling deeply. "Why're you so bent on letting people know I can't swim? You told Jack, Mush…everyone from Manhattan who's dead, for Christ's sake!" 

"Don't let the man upstairs hear that, Spotty," said Race, gesturing with his cigar towards the sky. "You remember what happened to Specs after he said Christ in front o' Saint Peter. Pearly gate duty for two hundred years!"

"Two hundred years?" I asked, surprised.

"Goes by like two weeks," said Race, shrugging a little.

"Yeah, well, Specs ain't sufferin' humiliation." Jack Kelly, lo and behold, the young man who Jackie took after like they were twins, came swaggering up to us with a black cowboy hat on his head. He was smirking like crazy, and I realized then that everyone in this business smirked whenever they felt like teasing, humiliating, bragging, et cetera in front of their friends. 

"Aw, go roll over in yoah grave, Kelly," said Spot. "Just 'cause you're thirty years old in Heaven doesn't mean you can brag…"

"I'm makin' up for all the lost opportunities," he said, knocking his hat back and grinning at Racetrack. "You had the biggest head in the boroughs, Spot, so I wouldn't be talkin'."

"Hilarious." Another blond boy, this time with an eye patch over one eye, came up and leaned against the post I was sitting near, so his legs kind of went through my head.

"Hey, Cyclops," said Spot, pointing to my head, which was currently discombobulated by Kid Blink's legs. "Watch where you put your legs."

"Oh!" He moved and looked down at me, smiling. "Sorry 'bout that, Mini-Spot."

" 'Mini-Spot'?" both me and Spot repeated. 

"Yeah," Kid Blink said, shrugging. "Mini-Spot."

"Great," I muttered sarcastically, looking gloomily down at the water where my friends were turning blue. Not in a dangerous sense, I mean. Their lips were probably blue by now.

"Where's Mush?" asked Kid Blink after a few moments of silence.

"Met this ghost girl last night," said Racetrack, taking a last drag on his cigar and then tossing it into the river. "She's real pretty, but not to smart."

"Then they're perfect for each other," said Spot with a shrug. He smirked a little and said, "You remember Sally Winters?"

"Yeah," said Jack, apparently thinking hard. "Was she that blond at Medda's party?"

"Which blond and which party?" asked Racetrack.

Laughter rippled through the group. I watched my friends start to come out of the water, their teeth chattering and shivering in their soggy clothes.

"I don't mean to be a spoilsport," I said, eyeing them and watching their shoulders shake from the cold. "But you didn't bring towels or an extra pair of clothes…"

"We're all going home after this," said Jackie through her chattering teeth.

"You're going to ride the bus in soaking wet clothes?"

"Soakin'?" Racetrack appeared again to my left and searched everywhere. "Who's gettin' soaked?"

I rolled my eyes and continued. "Or are you gonna walk?" I smirked at them and Jackie scowled, saying, "Nice going, Rachel," and whacking her on the arm.

"Wha'? I didn't do nothing!" she said, rubbing her arm where Jackie had hit her. She looked around and she nodded at me. "Stephie's right. How're we getting home soppin' wet?"

We decided that walking was the best bet. It was warmer outside than it was in the water (Diana provided us with that tidbit of information) and we walked across the bridge. 

**Author's Note:** I know, crappy chapter, but I wanted to get it out there. Please provide me with a little bit of constructive criticism! Thanks.


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